


The Proposal

by Gummiebear



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18857656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gummiebear/pseuds/Gummiebear
Summary: Eric knew he had to do it, just didn’t know when or how, until he did.





	The Proposal

Eric had it all planned out, every last detail was mapped out perfectly in his mind. What he was going to wear, what he was going to say, everything, so no mistakes were to happen. He consulted with Kane and his dad beforehand to get some ideas and perspectives on what and how to do it. He had been gathering information for months, since they touched down in Russia in June. Scoping out ideas, subtly dropping hints, asking questions hoping he’d get an answer he could use and run with. He even spoke with Sally and Alan, knowing Harry would be no help, just mug the whole thing off. Everyone told him to make sure it was meaningful and special to them. That wasn’t any help though. Eric knew that from the moment he thought of the idea. He racked his brain for ideas, tried to find something creative, something memorable. It was hard to focus when work and illness and life got in the way. Late night google searches on the coach home or taking his phone with him into the bathroom for some privacy. Kane asking him during the plane ride home from Amsterdam while everyone was still celebrating. The only concrete thing he knew was that it was going to be done on summer holiday, after the Champions League final and after the Nations League. They could just hop on a plane and take off. 

His first thought was Portugal, on the beach as the sun set behind them, the waves crashing creating a beautiful atmosphere. His mum shut that down almost immediately, saying that wasn’t something that symbolized them, that symbolized Eric. He thought about Milton Keynes which Sally quickly vetoed, expressing Dele’s uneasiness about his hometown. The ups and downs he face there and what he still deals with at time, internally. Eric was running out of ideas and had to think and do something, fast. Everything else was in order, the outfits, the ring, the speech he’d give. Now he just needed to know where he was going to do it. Kane told him to make a list of places that were special to them and meant something. That was impossible, every time he thought about Dele it was followed with a memory of football. The first time they kissed was in France during the Euros, after the Iceland lose. Sitting in their shared hotel room, tension and emotions running high between them. They’d been playing this back and forth game all season and it followed them to France. Eric was consoling a down rotten Dele when it happened. Dele desperately grabbing at Eric’s shirt that he stained with tears when he mustered up the courage to just kiss him. 

They returned to England after their respective holidays and their energy changed. The flirting was more aggressive, more open, more personal. The other lads didn’t seem to care or mind, Trippier applauding them actually. They didn’t have an official title but they definitely snuck kisses in the changing room when no one was there or paying attention. Grabbed onto each other tighter during goal celebrations, whispers in each other ears when they had prying eyes watching them. Promises of the future, both in the romantic and sexual nature. Their first declarations of love was revolves around football as well, England had just qualified for the World Cup. Once again emotions were running high, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Everyone was celebrating, bombarding Southgate and Kane. These little band of misfits who collapsed in France were heading to Russia. Dele jumped on Eric’s back, demanding to be carried around the pitch like a child when it slipped out of his mouth. Eric almost dropped him he was so taken aback by it. be carried around the pitch as they celebrated with their fans and each other. That’s when it slipped out of Dele’s mouth. He was on a high, euphoric, and said it, stunning them both. Eric almost dropped him in shock, trying to play it off, play it cool but readjusting him on his back. Later that night Eric said it back, just the two of them watching the stars above them on their hotel balcony. 

Russia solidified everything for Eric, even before then to be totally honest. The few weeks between the season ending and the national team gathering at St. George's Park were eye opening, life altering for Eric.They both knew it’ll be the last time they’d have to themselves before everything changed. They had such a strong belief in their team, the group of lads Southgate assembled, that England was going to make some noise in Russia. Picking out what to pack somehow became intimate and special to them, something to treasure. Dele always taking the piss out of the situation, especially when Eric’s fashion sense was involved. Eric joking at the over abuent amount of hair products Dele was packing, each one for a different weather type with a different smell to them. He loved him but knew he was excessive. The minute they touched down in Russia Eric knew. Knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life, personally and professionally, with Dele. Watching as Dele just took everything in around them with wide eyes. Asking so many questions about every sight they came across. Throwing himself into every training, every game, even if he didn’t play. Even at only twenty two he was wise, life had hardened him early on and it never once jaded him, even when it should have. 

When they had days off, which were few and far between, Dele wanted to do anything Eric did. Going to a museum, learning about the Russian culture, the history, things you’d never learn in a classroom. Eric was enamoured by this new side of Dele, someone who was willing to expand his horizons, to learn. That’s when Eric thought of proposing at the London National History Museum. Walker and Stones shot that down the minute Dele got back to his room and went straight in his PlayStation to play Fortnite against Trent. You could take the boy out of England but couldn’t take the England out of the boy, clearly. His ideas were dwindling and despite everyone’s excitement, no one was helping at all. They all said he had to find a place on his own, they could all point him in the right direction but ultimately it was up to Eric. During training and downtime during Russia, Eric could casually ask Dele questions about their relationship, what it meant to him, where he saw them going long term. It caused Dele some panic, confiding in Rose that Eric was going to break up with him after the tournament. 

After the Colombia shootout and amazing victory, courtesy of Eric, he shook his head in amusement at Dele and promised he wasn’t going anywhere. Eric even almost dropped to his knee and proposed right then and there, everyone watching be damned. His emotions were running high, everything felt alive, like he was vibrating with adrenaline. Reality knocked him back down to size when he and Pickford were getting pulled in a million different directions to give interviews. The Croatia game made everything feel normal again as they lost and returned back to England. They went on their summer holidays, separately, with the promise to keep in contact and reconnect once they were back in London. That’s when Eric’s ideas went into overdrive. That’s where he did most of his planning, Dele none the wiser, enjoying the California weather with some of the lads from the England team. The season started without a hitch, even if they missed the first few matches due to a delayed holiday. Everything was going swimmingly. Dele still oblivious to what he was going to do. Eric confided in some of Dele’s friends when he officially bought the ring, asking for their advice. Dele was simple but flashy, wanted to make a subdue statement in everything he did. Wanted to be memorable but not arrogant and his jewelry was the same way. 

The season wasn’t perfect, they rarely are. Injuries and a surprise appendicitis threw them both off. If Eric had to reflect on his season, he’d openly admit it wasn’t his best and he knew it. He knew what was being written about him almost on a weekly basis. Dele would admit it wasn’t his best either, but he was determined to work harder and be better next year. Some people didn’t get a next year, or are even lucky enough to accomplish what he had accomplished at his age. Making the Champions League final and finishing in the top four wasn’t something to dismiss. It was a reflection of the team and how good and determined they were. Football was winding down, getting an England call up for the Nations League was great but neither of them were ready for a heavy match due to playing days earlier in Madrid. A lot of the Spurs players, along with Liverpool players, weren’t able to wear the Three Lions during a crucial time. It gave Eric more time to finalize everything though. He had finally narrowed down the venues to propose in. He spoke to everyone who could help and talked through the logistics of everything. He knew, sadly, he couldn’t do it in a public place so that cancelled out the restaurant where they held Dele’s welcome to the club dinner.

“What are we doing here?” Dele asked as he followed Eric past empty rooms. “Seasons over, Diet.”

Eric mocked laughed at Dele’s comment. “Just wait.”

“Does Poch know you’re here? The grounds crew?” He continued to ask questions as they walked into the medical room at Enfield. “Finally getting that lobotomy you so desperately need?”

“Funny,” he replied dryly even though he enjoyed the playfully banter between the two of them. His heart was racing, his palms sweating. His nerves made him feel like he was vibrating, a livewire. 

“The medical room,” Dele observed, switching on the light and doing a small spin around the room. “Romantic. But, why are we here?”

“I love you,” Eric started, letting out a deep breath to calm himself. “Didn’t always want to admit it, not to myself, and not to you.”

“Thanks,” Dele snorted. 

“You were the biggest pain in my ass when you first arrived. Dele Alli, the superstar from MK Dons. The next big Spurs and England superstar,” Eric continued. “I wanted to hate you so much, Del.”

“Oh thanks.”

“But I couldn’t,” he sighed. “You weaseled your way into my life. Day in and day out, you were glued to my side. You gelled well with Walks and Kane but it was me you loved to rile up.”

“Still do,” Dele reminded him. 

“That’s why I can’t picture my life without you, inside and outside football,” Eric told him, making sure he was speaking to directly to Dele and not at the floor or the wall behind him. “Here’s where we first met. It was right before your first training. I was greeting the medical staff when Poch came in to introduce you to everyone.”

“You has that floppy prince hair,” Dele recalled with a smile. “Looked like a California frat boy.”

“I loved that hair!”

“Frat boy,” he stressed. 

“Anyway,” Eric interrupted any further tangents by Dele. “My disdain for you grew into appreciation, which turned into tolerance, then like, and eventually love. I wake up thinking of you and fall asleep dreaming of you.”

“Frisky.”

Eric sighed once again and reached into his pocket. Everything was straight out of a cliché but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He kneeled and watched as Dele’s eyes grew wide. “Delboy, babe, I want this life with you and no one else. There’s no one else I want to experience this crazy life with. Will you marry me?”

Dele stared down at Eric in shock, eyes wide and prickling with tears. He blinked a few times to get them away but they just began to fall freely. “E-Diet.”

“Marry me?” He asked again, opening the ring box to enunciate his point. 

“Y-Yes!” He cried enthusiastically, hands trembling. He watched in awe as Eric slipped the ring on his ringer to solidify it. Dele didn’t even care that he was crying, tears falling from his eyes and onto his shirt. “I love you.”

Eric stood up and smirked at Dele, his eyes wet from tears as well. “This was so agonizing.”

“Proposing to me?”

“Planning this,” he laughed. “Been trying since Russia.”

“That’s why you were so skittish the whole summer,” Dele realized, looking down at his left hand, marveling at the new accessory on his finger. 

“Besides trying to win a World Cup, yeah,” he replied. Eric hooked his finger in Dele’s belt loop to pull him closer. “Love you.”

“Just kiss me, Diet,” he demanded, standing on his tiptoes to reach Eric’s lips. Their kiss was soft and slow, tears falling from both their eyes. Dele started to laugh into Eric’s mouth when he felt a tear fall down his face and into his open mouth. This began a giggling fit from the two of them, still exchanging soft kisses in between laughs. “But seriously, does Poch know you’re here?”

Eric rolled his eyes and jokingly pushed Dele away from him. “I pulled some strings.”

“I love you,” Dele laughed, grabbing a hold of Eric’s hand and squeezing once, twice. “Let’s go home and celebrate.”

“Let’s go home and call our parents, my phones been going off all night,” Eric told him. 

“They knew!” Dele exclaimed. “Did Harry know? You know he can’t keep a secret.”

“He knew and shockingly kept his mouth shut,” Eric answered, as they walked out of the medical room and through the empty corridors to the exit. “Never asked for his input though cause we all know he’s shite at that.”

“Good call,” he agreed with a head nod, still holding onto Eric’s hand tightly. “I’m marrying a genius.”

“You are,” Eric confirmed, laughing as he dodged Dele’s hand from hitting him upside his head. 

“Unbearable,” Dele groaned, opening the passenger side door and getting in as Eric opened the door for himself. “I am impressed Diet, pulling this off without a hitch.”

“Was torture,” he told him, grabbing Dele’s hand again and he started the car and took off towards home. “Glad you said yes.”

“Glad you asked.”


End file.
